Not Quite a Nightmare
by Evil Cosmic Triplets
Summary: Stiles is at the mercy of two evil scientists. Convinced he's dreaming, Stiles tries to wake up, only to find that this is no nightmare.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own the characters of this work of fiction, and am making no profit through the writing of this._  
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**A/N: **Written for the prompt - experiments by evil scientists - on my hc_bingo card (total blackout on the card now ^0^). Animegirl1129 suggested the fandom, this is what my mind came up with for it while I was trying to sleep. It's a bit of angst, hurt, comfort, and crack. I hope that's okay

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_This is a nightmare_, Stiles tells himself, even though his eyes are wide open.

_This is a nightmare, and I'm going to wake up any minute now. _

He scrunches his eyes closed as tightly as he can, and then pops them open, hoping that'll do the trick, that he'll finally wake up. It doesn't.

He's still trapped. Strapped, arms and legs bound, to a cold, metallic table. It reminds him of the tables that Dr. Deaton uses when he's examining an animal. That thought brings him zero comfort.

"He needs to be sedated again," one of the two men says.

Stiles has no idea who either of the two men are. He can only see their eyes and hair, set high above a white mask, which again causes him to think of Dr. Deaton. One man's eyes are so dark that they're almost black, but his hair is a peppered gray. Stiles imagines that he's a son of the devil, maybe even the devil himself, except his eyes aren't glowing. The other's eyes are so blue that they make Stiles shiver with imagined cold, his hair is a golden red. He's even more evil looking than his black-eyed counterpart. Both men are dressed in white lab coats and donning yellowish plastic gloves.

_Wake up!_ Stiles tells himself, his mouth isn't working, or he'd shout it.

He feels a needle prick on the inside of his arm and his toes curl in reaction to it. A cool liquid spreads through his veins, and he's helpless to stop it. It makes him drowsy, and he knows that it'll only be a matter of seconds before he loses the fight to stay conscious.

Just before his eyes close, and he falls asleep in earnest, he sees something which makes his heart run cold – one of the doctors, mad scientist by Stiles' standards, is wielding a circular saw. The blade is spinning, an overhead light glints off of it and blinds Stiles. It's the last thing that he sees, the memory he takes with him into a blissful darkness.

The next time Stiles wakes, it's to a pair of bright green eyes peering directly into his. They're much better than the eyes that belonged to the evil, masked men. He's got a name for those eyes, or rather the one who bears those eyes.

_Derek._

Stiles blinks. He doesn't know if Derek will still be there when his eyes open again. He's a little afraid that he won't, that it'll be the blue or the black eyes which will greet him when next opens them.

_Green._

As far as Stiles is concerned, Green is now his favorite color.

"Stiles, don't try to get up, okay?"

Stiles frowns, but nods. His mouth still doesn't want to work, but that's okay, because a quick glance around the room lets him know that the bad men, doctors, evil scientists, whatever, are gone.

"You're going to be okay." Derek places a hand on his shoulder, and Stiles wonders why the wolf is always so serious.

Another glance around the room and Stiles becomes aware that they aren't alone. Derek's entire pack is there: Erica, Boyd, Isaac, Jackson, and even Scott, Allison and Lydia are there. It's then that he starts to panic, and that strikes him as funny, because he hadn't panicked when he'd woken up in the strange room, strapped to a metal table with two evil-eyed men talking about him as if he was some kind of specimen to experiment on.

"Does it hurt?" Isaac asks, and he's looking at something located toward the foot of the table that Stiles can't see.

_Does what hurt?_ Stiles really wants that thought to be outside of his head, and he casts his eyes toward Derek, trying to communicate his question to the wolf through his eyes. It seems to work, because Derek glares at Isaac who ducks his head and moves closer to Stiles' head.

"What are we going to do?" Erica asks, and she gestures toward the foot of the table.

"Enough," Derek growls, his nostrils flaring.

"But…" Scott reels when Derek turns in his direction, red eyes glowing.

"Derek…" Jackson backs down before Derek can look at him.

"Are you in any pain, Stiles?" Derek's eyes are green once again, and there's something that looks suspiciously like concern shining in them.

Stiles thinks, and his forehead scrunches, and then he feels it. It's a dull pain, but it's definitely there, and he nods, fear taking residence up inside of his chest. He grasps at Derek's hand, the one on his shoulder and Derek lets him clutch at it.

"Maybe we could…" Isaac hesitates, and swallows when Derek looks at him, but he presses on, "you know, use our powers, just to ease some of his pain?" Looking away, he puts his hands in his pockets and shrugs. "Dr. Deaton showed me how to do it," he adds quietly.

"What powers?" Erica asks.

"We can help take away pain, if we lay our hands on an animal, or I think… I think it works on a person too," Isaac says, his eyes darting to Derek for confirmation.

Derek tilts his head in a nod, and squeezes Stiles' hand.

"So, what, we just put our hands on Stiles and it will take away any pain that he's feeling?" Erica wraps her arms across her chest, as though she's afraid that even mentioning it will cause something to happen.

"Will we feel his pain if we do this?" Jackson asks, taking a step away from the table.

Isaac shakes his head.

Stiles isn't sure what to think of this, but as his senses start to come back to him, he's suddenly more aware of the pain, and that it feels like his leg is on fire. Like his leg's been cut right off of him, and he struggles to sit up so that he can see whatever it is that the others were talking about earlier. Derek places his other hand on Stiles' shoulder, pinning him in place and he looks into Stiles' eyes.

"Don't move," Derek says. "Just lie still for now."

_But, I need to see. I need to make sure that my leg is still there because I can't feel it, but I can, and will someone make this pain stop?_ The litany of words translates into a single, drawn out moan, and Stiles shifts his weight a little, trying to roll over so that he can see, but all it does is cause the pain in his leg to increase until he hears white noise and he's squeezing Derek's hand so hard that he can hear a crunch when the bones in the wolf's hands grate against each other.

"Stiles, Stiles," Derek's voice sounds like it's coming from a long distance away, and Stiles turns his head toward the sound of it, his eyes captivated by the green, flecked with gold of Derek's eyes. "It's going to be okay. Trust me?"

Stiles bites his bottom lip as a wave of pain sweeps up from his left leg all the way to the top of his head. He breathes through his nose, trying to will away the nausea which accompanies the pain. White dots dance before his eyes, making him dizzy and faint.

"Do you trust me Stiles?" Derek asks again.

Stiles keeps his eyes locked on Derek's, taking comfort in the green of them, letting himself get lost in the compassion he can see reflected in them. He nods, and Derek sighs, smiles – it's a brief, almost not there upturning of the lips, but it's enough of a smile for Stiles.

"Okay, on my count, I want all of you, except for Allison and Lydia," Derek gives the girls an apologetic look, and they nod in understanding and take a step back, "to lay your hands on Stiles. In order for this to work, you've got to concentrate on helping him, taking away the pain, making him feel better." He looks at each member of his pack in turn, and they nod in response.

Erica shakes out her hands, and, though she looks nervous, she takes a step forward, letting her hip rest against the table.

"Will it fix him?" Boyd asks.

Derek gives a tiny shake of his head, and Stiles feels like crying. He doesn't even know what's wrong with him, why all of them are in various stages of freaking out, but he's upset that whatever it is that they're about to do won't fix whatever it is.

"Stiles," Derek's mouth is right next to his ear, "close your eyes."

Stiles doesn't want to close his eyes. _I've had enough of this nightmare, I'd like to wake up now._

"Trust me?" Derek asks again.

Stiles takes a deep breath, squeezes Derek's hand, and then, putting his trust in the wolf, he closes his eyes. He listens as Derek counts down from three, and then steals himself when he feels six set of hands placed in various places on his body. It's only then that he realizes that he's naked, probably has been since this whole nightmare began.

At first he doesn't feel anything, other than the white hot pain in his leg, but then something changes and there's an upsurge of pain, and finally he's able to give voice to what he's been feeling and thinking. It all comes out in an ear-splitting scream, filled with every bit of fear, anguish and pain that he's been feeling since he'd first been kidnapped and drugged by the mad, evil scientist duo. It lasts for what feels like hours, and then it just cuts off and Stiles can feel tears streaming down his face.

The pain ebbs and flows, and then there's a collective gasp from the group assembled around him and then everything just stops. Time stands still. Stiles' heart ceases to beat for what he's sure amounts to several heartbeats, before it starts up again.

A bright, white light fills the room; Stiles can see it through his closed eyelids. It's so bright that it's almost painful. It seems to hover for a few seconds, and then Stiles can feel it descend upon him and seep deep into his bones.

He keeps his eyes closed, even after he no longer feels the pressure of hands on him. There's another collective gasp.

"How did that happen?" Isaac asks in wonder. "I didn't know we could do that."

"What? What did we do?" Jackson sounds like a little kid, eager to see something, and Stiles opens his eyes to find the entire pack, except for Derek, gathered around the foot of the table.

Erica's face is split in a wide grin and even Boyd has a smile on his face. Isaac's eyes are filled with unshed tears, and Jackson's mouth is agape. Scott's beaming at him, Allison's pressed close to his side. Lydia's the only one who seems unaffected by whatever it is that's happened. She smiles at him and then drapes a towel over his waist.

"Thanks," Stiles croaks, and he blushes.

"Figured you might want to conserve at least a little of your modesty, now that you're actually awake," Lydia says with a smirk, and she joins the others at the foot of the table.

"What," Stiles swallows past the dryness of his throat, "what did they do to me?"

"What do you remember?" Derek, who hasn't moved from his position by Stiles' head, asks. The wolf's still holding Stiles' hand.

"Uh, not much," Stiles tries to think back, but all he can remember is the men's eyes and the circular saw. He doesn't even remember how or when he'd been taken.

"You were kidnapped on your way home from school yesterday afternoon," Scott says. It's not at all helpful, doesn't jog any memories for Stiles.

Stiles turns to look at Derek, focuses on the Alpha's eyes, and is reassured by the green of them. "All I remember are their eyes – one had eyes black like a starless night, the other blue, like ice. And, and there was a saw. I think they drugged me. Who were they? What did they do? Where are they now?" The questions spill out of him, leaving him breathless.

"They called themselves scientists," Isaac says, his voice is harsh and vicious, the trace of a growl in it.

"What did they do to me?" Stiles demands, he tries to sit up to see what it is that was done to his leg, but Derek holds him in place.

"They're dead," Derek says, and it's in no way an answer to what Stiles has asked, but he takes comfort in the fact that they are no longer around to kidnap and experiment on anyone else.

"If you ask me, I think it looks kind of cool," Jackson says. Lydia hits him on the arm and he scowls at her, but doesn't say anything else.

"I don't think it would've worked if we hadn't done whatever it is that we did," Erica says with a shrug.

"It's definitely going to take some getting used to," Scott says, and Allison thwacks his arm. He pouts at her and rubs his arm.

"What the hell are all of you talking about?"

"Maybe you should just let him see it," Allison suggests.

Derek takes a deep breath, looks Stiles in the eye, and then nods.

"Everyone out," he says, and they all scramble to obey. Boyd pauses by the door for half a second, and it looks like he wants to say something, but then he nods his head and leaves.

When it's just the two of them – Stiles and Derek – Derek crouches down beside him so that they're eye level. "Are you sure you want to see this, that you don't want to go to the hospital first?"

"Derek, just show me what those bastards did to me." Stiles slams a fist into the metal table, and winces at the pain.

Derek gives him another partial smile, stands, and then helps Stiles into a sitting position. Stiles isn't sure what it was that he'd been expecting to see, but it certainly isn't this. It's only Derek's steady hand on his back, and the grip that the man has on his shoulder that keeps him upright. Stiles turns and buries his face against Derek's chest.

"I want to wake up from this nightmare now," Stiles says in a small, childlike voice. He fists Derek's sweater in his hand, and sobs. "Can I please wake up now?"

Derek climbs up onto the table with him, holds him, and lets him cry until Stiles is certain there are no more tears left in him. He's spent, exhausted, and he just wants to sleep, but there's the matter of his missing foot, and what's been put there in place of it.

"How am I going to explain this to my dad?" he asks, his question muffled by Derek's chest.

"Tell him the truth, that you were kidnapped by two evil scientists," Derek suggests. He's running a hand over Stiles' head, and it's soothing, easing some of the fear and stress and anxiety that Stiles is feeling.

"And that they replaced my foot with a bear claw?" Stiles doesn't know why he laughs, because it isn't funny, none of it is funny, but he laughs, and soon Derek is joining him. He laughs until he cries; his theory that he no longer has tears is completely dashed.

Sometime later, there's a rescue by the Sheriff's department and Stiles is whisked away to the hospital. His father thanks Derek for finding his son and alerting him to his whereabouts and Stiles wonders when that happened, because he doesn't recall seeing Derek make a single phone call that night.

The doctors are all baffled, because what the two men (disreputable doctors, Roble and Mercjeski) had done should not have worked – a bear claw grafted to a human leg. Stiles even has feeling in it, and he knows that it has everything to do with the little circle of healing thing that Derek and his pack had done for him when they'd tried to ease his pain.

As far as what had become of the two scientists, shunned by the medical and science communities for their outlandish ideas, no one really knows. And, quite frankly, no one really cares. Stiles has a suspicion that a certain werewolf might've taken it upon himself to rid the world of their mad genius. For that, he's grateful.

It takes Stiles awhile to get used to having a bear claw for a foot, and he kind of feels like a bit of a freak. It's hard to find shoes that will fit, and he has to use weed cutters to clip his nails, which grow way too quickly. He finds out that he's got a hell of a powerful kick one night when he's out with Derek and the others, battling some monster of the week, and he supposes that maybe, out of everything that has happened to him in the past two years, having a bear claw for a foot is perhaps not the worst thing that could've happened to him.

For one thing, Derek stops by more often, and not in the, I'm-here-and-then-gone type of visits, that had always left Stiles' head spinning. The Sheriff actually kind of likes, "the Hale lad," as he calls him, and so Derek comes by for dinner, stays late, spends some time upstairs in Stiles' room looking through books or magazines while Stiles does his homework or researches whatever new monster has reared its ugly head in their cozy little town.

It's comfortable, and good, and so, when Derek stands awkwardly on the Stilinski's front porch one night, hands stuffed in his pockets, Stiles stands on his tippy toes, and curses his damnable bear claw, as it causes him to fall against Derek. Derek catches him easily, and then he kisses him.

Green eyes flash a brilliant red for half a second, and then they're back to green. Stiles notes the little flecks of gold in them, and then he gets kind of lost in the feel of Derek's tongue in his mouth, the press of the man's lips against his own and the taste of it all.

_Yeah_, Stiles thinks, once the kiss ends and he's capable of coherent thought once again, _there are worse things that could've happened to me. _

When Derek grips Stiles' chin and kisses him again, Stiles thinks, _If this is a dream, please don't ever let it end._

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_If you like it, please let me know by reviewing. If you think it's crazy and cracky, let me know that as well. Personally, I think it's rather on the, 'what on earth was the author thinking?' side of things. _


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